


blood pact

by unraelated



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blood, Implied/Referenced Torture, Interrogation, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, a ship can be an angry man and his unhinged enabler bleeding on one another, retainer swap au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraelated/pseuds/unraelated
Summary: Retainer Swap AU in which Hubert is Dimitri's retainerA short scene after a battle.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 13
Kudos: 118





	blood pact

The air stank of blood. It was not a smell that particularly bothered Hubert, but it was overwhelming in its own way. He found himself swayed by it, light headed - though perhaps that was the injury he had hastily patched up on his own, barely hidden as he stalked toward the forboding shape on the battlefield.

His liege. His king. Dimitri cut a dark figure across the scorched earth, blackened armor dull with blood and grime, his lance slicing a shallow path through the dirt as he walked. The battle was over and the stragglers were in the process of picking themselves up and dragging whoever they could save away.

This was always Hubert’s favorite part of the battle. The stillness afterward, as if the world was taking a gasping breath. No birds sang, no horses whinneyed or stamped their feet. Even the animals knew that the place was shrouded in death.

And standing above it all was his king. Hubert had no mind for the others moving behind him, didn’t care to see that Ingrid survived, or Felix or Ashe. All that mattered was the man who staggered toward the enemy general, who was on his knees and trembling, trying to remain strong.

Hubert said nothing when he finally caught up to Dimitri. He merely watched with light eyes, his arm lowered and wrapped around his waist, clutching at the bloodied fabric there.

“I’ve heard that the Emperor is moving with her army,” Dimitri started, setting his lance firmly against the ground. He’d lost his cloak somewhere in the battle and without it, his silhouette was shockingly thin and wiry.

It did nothing to make him less intimidating.

“Where are her next movements?” Dimitri demanded, his voice a low growl. The general, goddess bless him, shook his head frantically, his hands clenched into fists. Dimitri took a step closer and turned the silver lance in his grip, effortlessly spinning it so that the sharpened tip was pointing toward the ground.

He rested it gingerly against a notch in the general’s armor, the tip of it digging into the break between the plating. Not piercing, not yet, just a threat.

“I didn’t hear an answer,” he snarled.

“I - I don’t know!” the general exclaimed, falling backward in the dirt, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the ground so he could pull himself away. Dimitri stopped him with the foot of his boot pressed against his chest now, grinding him into the earth.

There was no remorse in his eye. No empathy. Hubert watched as his king pressed his lance against his throat this time.

“I can make this painful for you,” he threatened, his voice a terrifying whisper, “I can go slowly. All children in Faerghus are taught how to skin an animal after a hunt. I’m sure a man is no different.”

“Dimitri - “ came a voice from behind him as Annette, sweet gentle Annette of all people, surged forward as if to stop him. Hubert held his arm out to silence her, his eyes cutting over to her face in a warning.

“Don’t.”

A single word. Annette bit her lip and faltered, falling back a step, and Hubert turned to her fully now, seeing Ingrid behind her, and then Sylvain. He wet his lips, eyeing the horror and disgust in their faces. Hubert made a quick calculation and took a step closer to them.

“I advise returning to camp. I’ll be sure he gets back safely.”

They didn’t exactly seem confident of that, but they also didn’t seem to be willing to step in between Dimitri and his prey. The general cried out behind him, leaving Hubert momentarily annoyed to miss whatever it was Dimitri was doing to him. Even so, it was worth it if he could convince them to turn away.

Sylvain shrugged and stepped back, his jaw set tight. Annette followed, leaving only Ingrid, who stared him down as if he’d slit their king’s throat himself.

She never liked him much.

“ _Go_ ,” he urged, his lip curling, “you’re not going to like what happens next.”

For a moment, it seemed as if she was going to argue or intervene somehow, as if she would step in front of both Hubert and Dimitri. But in the end, Ingrid backed down, her sharp eyes softening and turning to defeat as she looked away.

“...don’t let him lose himself,” she finally said through gritted teeth. “Please.”

And with that she was gone.

Hubert had never heard her say _please_ before, least of all to him. He frowned, turning back toward Dimitri who had speared through the general’s shoulder and was _twisting_ his lance now, crouching down over him.

He demanded the location of Edelgard again, but the general was too busy whimpering to answer. Hubert took a step closer and the scent of blood hit him - fresh now, the scent somehow wet in his nostrils.

And Dimitri _was_ a beast: eye as wild as a wolf, hunched over his prey as if he were about to devour him. The threats that fell from his mouth were soft, brutal, and Hubert knew that his king could make every single one of them come true.

A man could fall in love.

“...cut out your eyes,” he was saying, “your fingers, your ears, let you wander around our camp until we’ve had our fill of you, and then feed you, squirming and writhing to our dogs.”

The lance twisted again. The man screamed.

Hubert put his hand on Dimitri’s shoulder.

Gentle, so as not to startle him into a violent reaction. His normally-white glove was stained dark with the singe of fire and red with blood, but he didn’t think Dimitri would comment on it, if he even noticed.

Dimitri paused but did not turn his head to look at him. Hubert took care to be on his left side, where his king could see him out of his peripheral vision, but Dimitri barely moved to acknowledge his presence.

“He’s not talking,” Hubert murmured, a fact which Dimitri could clearly see. Dimitri merely grunted in response and Hubert hummed. “Perhaps… you could let me try.”

 _That_ seemed to interest him. Dimitri finally glanced back, his single eye fixated on Hubert’s expression. Watching him, as if waiting for something in his resolve to crack. When it did not, he straightened his shoulders and turned his head more fully to face him.

Hubert never dissuaded Dimitri from giving into his urges. Perhaps that was why Dimitri was always more willing to talk to him.

“You would torture him without feeling. You wouldn’t respect it.”

A point of contention between them, as always. Dimitri was more than willing to play the monster, but he could never stifle his feelings from bleeding through his fingers, staining everything he touched in _sentiment_.

Hubert felt nothing. No, that wasn’t strictly true - he felt loyalty, a raging drive to see Dimitri to the throne, and nothing else.

Nothing else mattered.

“I respect it just fine,” he countered coolly, flicking his gaze dismissively over the man below him, “I just don’t wallow in the guilt of it when I’m done.”

Dimitri snarled, made a move to lunge at him, but Hubert lifted his hand again, keeping him at bay.

“We all have our gifts, my king. Your vision is yours, and I will not see it lost to self loathing.” He paused, slipped closer, gently took his hand from his injured side to wrap his wet and bloodied fingers around Dimitri’s own, where he grasped at the lance currently impaling the sobbing man below them both. "Let me serve you."

Dimitri watched him, considering, but Hubert didn't miss the way that his eye cut to where their hands were overlapping, the squelch of fresh blood on Hubert's glove.

"You're hurt," he grunted. Hubert shook his head, stepping closer. 

Close like this, he had to lift his foot as well, had to step up onto the ribcage of their loathsome general so that he could look Dimitri in the eye, be near him, see the faint glint of humanity behind the glassy blue.

Smell his animal smell.

"Inconsequential," he murmured in response, his voice barely audible, but they were close enough that Dimitri could hear him. He lifted his other hand, the one not on the shaft of the lance, and grasped at Dimitri's wrist, pulling his king's fingers closer, to press against his side where his injury was beginning to drench through the bandages with his own blood.

"Feel this," he said, his voice now taking on Dimitri's familiar ragged snarl, "this is for you. Dig your fingers in. _Feel_ it." when Dimitri did, he bit back a gasp at the brightness of the pain, keeping his eyes on Dimitri as his blood dripped into his king's palm, "This is what I give you. Never doubt my conviction to you. You want your enemies killed, I will kill them. You want your prisoners to talk, I will make them talk. You want me to bleed out every last drop of my blood for you - I'll do that too. I am yours, no matter what your ghosts say. Trust my hand to do what your conscience would not allow you to accomplish."

Dimitri's own hand relented after a moment, his fingers slipping away from the bloody wound so that he could place his palm over it instead, lightening the pain. Hubert scarcely dared to breathe, but instead of the typical disdain, what he found in Dimitri's gaze was… a consideration, like a wild dog tempted closer by food it didn't trust.

The general below them was limp - passed out from the pain, perhaps. Hubert would not allow him to die so easily.

Close like this, with Dimitri so near to him, Hubert found himself swaying closer, his hand over Dimitri’s on the weapon, Dimitri’s warm palm against his side. _Don’t let him lose himself_ , Ingrid had said.

Hubert did not intend to.

When he touched his mouth to his king’s, it was not quite a kiss. It was not born of affection or adoration or any such childish thing. It was the butcher paying respects to the hunter. It was Hubert coaxing any shred of humanity back into the man before him, reaching to the wild dog with an open hand and letting it know that his knife would never be turned on it.

Dimitri did not react. His lips didn’t soften, his mouth didn’t move, his posture didn’t change. Hubert didn’t really expect it to.

“Go back to the camp,” he asked softly, his breath carrying the words to the sharp line of Dimitri’s jaw. “Be with your subjects. I will get what you seek.”

Below his hand, he felt Dimitri’s fingers relax on the lance until his hand fell away - and fell away from his ribs as well. Without the warmth of Dimitri’s palm pressed over him, the cool evening air bit into his injury, stealing away his body heat. No matter.

“When you’re done with him, bring him to me,” Dimitri finally ordered and Hubert watched the way his hands tightened to fists, his thumb slipping over the drying blood in his palm, “so that I may kill him.”

Hubert nodded. Of course he would.

Dimitri hesitated a moment longer, lifted his gaze to him, and for a moment Hubert thought he would say something else. For a moment there was a light in his eye that seemed almost reminiscent of their school days.

The general sputtered out a breathy groan from his state of unconsciousness and the light was extinguished. Dimitri’s lip curled and he turned, stalking off down the battlefield back toward camp, leaving Hubert and his unwilling subject.

There was nothing left to do. Hubert turned his back to the others, reached into his cloak for his razor, and set to work.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those silly ideas that got away from me. I just like the thought of these two having a close relationship, but it's hard to imagine it working out anywhere except for just after the timeskip, before Dimitri's change of heart. I imagine that Hubert would have been the unquestionable black sheep of the Blue Lions and most of them (including Dimitri) didn't like him much during school, but then the timeskip happens and he's the only one keeping things together... I dunno.
> 
> Byleth is probably with Edelgard/Hilda, a trio of queens on their way to rule the world. Gotta love it!
> 
> If you'd like to follow to keep up with my other work, I'm at [@unraelated](https://twitter.com/unraelated)! Thank you!


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